Harsh Language?
by Tycho
Summary: Someone returns to Sunnydale after the Gift. Companion piece to my Angel story Chance Meeting.


Harsh Language?  
by Tycho  
Summary: Someone returns to Sunnydale after the Gift. Companion to Chance Meeting.  
Rating: PG-13 for language.  
  
The man walked up the front lawn of 1630 Robello Drive, his youthful features clouded by confusion and a little irritation. Things had changed some since he had last been here, casting a somewhat ominous look about the house. Perhaps it was the way the setting sun reflected dully off the heavily tinted windows. Windows that had once been transparent.  
  
Perhaps it was the black DeSoto parked in the driveway.  
  
There were other differences as well. There were far fewer potted plants on the porch, but two beautifully tended rose bushes - one red, one a pale pink - graced either side of the step.  
  
The man walked up those steps, stragiht to the door. He raised his hand to the doorbell, but let it drop as he wondered for the umpteenth time if even being there was a good idea, let alone what he should say when he saw her again. Somehow 'Hi Honey! I'm home!' just didn't seem to fit the situation.  
  
"Screw it." He rang the bell.  
  
* * * *  
  
The doorbell rang, echoing through the silent house. From the top of the stairs Dawn squealed in protest. "Oh my God! He's early. He promised he wouldn't be early! Don't let him in. Don't scare him off."   
  
And with that she rushed into her bedroom to triple check the already perfected look.  
  
Spike laughed as he approached the door. "It's probably just the Watcher, luv. Here to tell me to keep a close eye on you tonight." He bent to examine the mirror setup he'd installed to serve as both peephole and vampire detector. "Y'know what he's like...."  
  
Spike went silent as he identified the intruder. Cursing under his breath, he opened the door. "Well if it isn't Captain Cardboard himself. Or is it General Iowa now? I have to say mate, you're the last person I expected to see in this neck of the woods again. Ever."  
  
Riley looked the vampire over with contempt. "You're not exactly my favorite person either, Spike. I just want to see Buffy." He looked past Spike into the house, missing the peculiar look that passed over the vamp's face.  
  
"She ain't here."  
  
"She'll be at the Magi...."  
  
"No."  
  
"But..."  
  
"8 o'clock. Ravenswood Cemetary. You can see 'er then. Don't try and talk to the scoobies, especially Dawn. Now if you don't mind leaving, I want the Niblet to have a good time on her date tonight, and that means she doesn't see you."  
  
The door shut just this side of a slam, and just a fraction of an inch from Riley's nose. On the other side of the doorway, he could hear voices:  
  
"Spike? who was it?"  
  
"Just a shonky salesman, pet. Tryin' to sell us somethin' we don't want."  
  
* * * *  
  
Only a sliver of moon shone down on the cemetary as Riley moved among the crypts and tombstones. For ten minutes he had waited at Buffy's usual entry point to Ravenswood, followed by twenty minutes of searching. Until now he had found nothing, not even a stray vamp for him to work out his frustrations on. Then he spotted his quarry. Or at least his quarry's undead pet.  
  
Spike was seated on a headstone, dappled by the shadows cast by a nearby tree blocking what little moonlight there was. Strangely, or perhaps fittingly, his head was clear of shadow; the shock white hair and pale face seeming to glow in the moonlight like some demented floating skull. One that seemed intent on carving a thick piece of wood into a symmetrical stake.  
  
Riley stopped several feet away from 'the fangless wonder' as Xander had once dubbed him. "So where's Buffy? You said she'd be here."  
  
Spike did one of the most annoying things he could. He ignored him. For a few moments, at any rate. "Somethin' you should see first." He pointed the nearly finished stake at the grave next door. Riley could just make out the name engraved there in the dim light. _Joyce Summers_  
  
"No.....But I thought.... The operation?"  
  
"Aneurism. Few weeks later."  
  
"I should have been here."  
  
"No shit." Spike's voice was flat with hatred.  
  
Riley turned on him angrily, "And I suppose you offered her 'comfort'!"  
  
"Not bloody likely. Angel can do that a lot better than I can. And I'm talking actual comfort here, not your variety."  
  
"Bastard."  
  
"And proud of it." Spike flipped the stake so he was holding it by the tip, and threw it.   
  
Once Riley would have tried to catch it. Once he would have at least tried to duck. But now he was merely human, and all he could do was watch as time seemed to slow and the stake flew end over end toward him. And past him. He turned his head just in time to see a human shaped figure become as dust and fall to the ground.  
  
"There's always one. They just can't leave it alone. You'd think the novelty would have worn off by now."  
  
"Novelty?"  
  
Spike slid off the tombstone, letting the soldier boy see the engraving on it for the first time. "Of trying to desecrate the resting place of a Slayer. Most are never found or are taken back to London. They think it'll make 'em a big bad. But the original's here to protect her. And her's."  
  
Riley fell to his knees at the foot of the grave. Eventually : "How?"  
  
"Like it says. She saved the world. How else."  
  
There was silence for a time as Riley contemplated this change in his view of the world. Spike was never one for long silences, especially ones like this. "Alright. You've seen her. Now get out of town before I'm forced to do something drastic."  
  
"Like what? Use harsh language?" The irony cut Spike like a knife. A lifetime ago, the Slayer had said the same thing to him. And had he been able to respond like he could now . . . . . he wouldn't be in this situation.  
  
Riley Finn, member of the US Army's elite demon fighting division, found himself eating grass and dirt after the century old vampire's fist struck his head. He rolled over so he could at least try and clear his vision. "But.....the chip?"  
  
"Stopped working months ago."  
  
From what seemed the other side of the world, a voice shouted, "SPIKE! What's goin' on here?" Finn raised himself up enough to see Xander and Anya approaching, the latter carrying a bouquet of flowers.  
  
"Just about to throw out the trash, Xand."  
  
Xander held out a hand which Finn gratefully accepted. Once he was up, he began to stammer out warning about the danger called William the Bloody. Until he realised that Xander was pretty much ignoring it, concentrating more on the damage that Spike had done to his face.  
  
"That's gonna be ugly tomorrow. A black eye Spike? What were you told about this?" Spike looked at him quizzically, head cocked and eyebrow raised. Suddenly Finn found himself contemplating the mystery that was the night sky.  
  
"Always make sure you give them a matched set."  
  
Fin. 


End file.
